


Massage

by PUNIFA



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, IAIN CAN BE A BRAT, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 01:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PUNIFA/pseuds/PUNIFA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iain's achy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Massage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mybelovedcheshire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mybelovedcheshire/gifts).



Iain was stretched out on the sofa when Greg got home, head nestled against his forearms and heating pad draped over his back, turned up as high as he could stand. Greg frowned and slipped out of his coat, tossing it aside and settling on the edge of the squishy couch. He leaned over to peer at Iain and his frown grooved even deeper.  
  
“You know it’s not meant to go on your _skin_ .”  
  
Iain only grunted, burrowing his head deeper between his arm and the cushion, and Greg wrinkled his nose and plucked the near-scorching pad off of his bare back, which was flushed a rather dangerous shade of red. Iain growled quietly, lifting his head a burdened inch to glare up at Greg.  
  
“Put that back.”  
  
“I’m not having you sent to hospital for burns.”  
  
“It was _helping_ .”  
  
Greg ignored Iain’s further grumbled protests, unplugging the pad and folding it up. He padded into the hall and tucked it into the closet, then returned to an upright-but-slouching Iain, arms crossed and face twisted into a grimacing glare.  
  
“Your back hurting?”  
  
“Not at all,” Iain snapped sourly, then his face sagged and he sighed. “Not like I ride first class. Three layovers and a storm delay is murder.”  
  
Greg reached out to squeeze Iain’s hand. “Turn round a minute.” Iain perked and eyebrow but - very painstakingly - obeyed, stretching out onto his belly again, hugging one of the pillows against his chest. Greg immediately spread his stout fingers, still warm from handling the heating pad, over Iain’s skin. The younger man moaned against the pillow, sinking boneless against Greg’s thigh.  
  
After several minutes, when Greg wasn’t quite sure if Iain was still awake, he chuckled heartily, pressing his fingers deeper against Iain’s knotted muscles.  
  
“Shouldn’t it be _me_ down there? Old man and all.” He grinned when Iain gave a disgruntled noise and stretched his shoulders, mumblings muffled.  
  
They were silent for several more minutes, until Iain began snoring quietly, back finally loosening up beneath Greg’s adept kneading. When Greg's fingers started to cramp, and when Iain’s snoring escalated into a sawing, he snapped his knuckles then retrieved the heating pad and a thick towel. He spread the towel along Iain’s half-limbered back and laid the pad over top of it, careful to set it on low.  
  
When he got up to head for the shower Iain’s hand flopped out weakly, fingers curling limply with Greg’s, and warmth seeped through him. Iain rarely even woke when the older detective left the bed.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Greg smiled, flexing his vaguely aching fingers around the younger man’s and leaning down, nudging his nose along Iain’s temple until his lips skimmed his forehead.  
  
“Not a problem, love. We’ll have another appointment tomorrow night. This one’s on the house and I’ll only charge you half for the second.”  
  
That managed to weasel a soft chuckle from Iain’s lips that quickly tapered off as he slipped back into slumber, and with one final caress between Iain’s shoulder blades Greg stood, tucking a blanket around the younger DI’s form before slipping off to the bathroom.  
  
When Greg came home the next day Iain had delved into further dramatics, sprawling out on the floor, heating pad once again roasting his bared skin (though Greg could swear there was an expectant look in Iain’s eyes as he tilted his head to peer miserably up at him).


End file.
